


Shelter

by WandererofStars



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drama, F/M, Family Drama
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-06-30 06:55:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15746583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WandererofStars/pseuds/WandererofStars
Summary: During the last moments before the Weirdmageddon, Fiddleford is visited by Bill Cipher and despairs as he realises he's the only one who may save his family from the end of the world. But will a man known for his notorious madness earn once again the trust of his estranged family and convince them to leave the town?This work was a commission by the amazing Gabby! ❤ She shares my love for Fiddleford.





	1. Chapter 1

‘Emma, for crying out loud! Open that door, wouldja?’

He banged on the door once more, yelling scrambled words and jumbled sentences that were carried away by the billowing storm. His hat was held in place with one hand as he banged his fist on the familiar mahogany door that had been shut in his face many times over with the other. His slim and fragile figure was hurled up against the gusting wind, begging for his wife to open the door to his old home.

No matter how much he insisted, she would never let him in.

He had been standing in the rain for almost an hour now. He wore only his overalls and his hat. It was dark and cold, and he was soaked head to foot, thick droplets mercilessly pounding on his hat. He wrapped himself with his beard, using it as a blanket and a shield against the raging storm. He hadn’t seen Emma in years. She simply refused to let him in the house anymore. He couldn’t blame his wife, though.

Ever since he had begun to use that blasted gun, his memory had worsened progressively over the years until it came to a point his mind was just fragmented beyond repair. And so he set an improvised shelter in Gleeful’s junkyard to live the remainder of his days as a hermit, forgotten by society, days passing by as he slowly forgot about his own identity, his job, his family and his past, until all that was left was an empty shell of a man.

Hurled up on the doorstep, his fragile form seemed like it would be carried away by the strong winds any moment now.

‘Good golly, it feels like the world is an-ending! Why did it get so cold all of a sudden?’

He missed the warm fur of his raccoon wife, his mouldy but cozy sofa which doubled as a bed and prayed he would remain alive long enough to leave Gravity Falls before the countdown reached zero. He needed to warn his family - or what he could remember of them - of the upcoming calamity. If only his son Tate were still willing to listen to him…

* * *

**Earlier that day…**

 

He checked his portable computer again. The time was right. Twenty hours until Doomsday.

He had dreaded that moment his entire life. The last time he saw that evil triangle was the day he gave up trying to help...what was his name again? Stan? Stanley? Stanton? Stanfer? Stanford! It was Stanford! T’was the day he had given up on helping that Stanford guy complete his whatchamacallit Doomsday device. The one that would open up the gates of hell, allow demons to come through and invade the town. From them on, it would be chaos. The creatures would kill people, turn all coffee into decaf, throw a rave party and turn the rules of physics upside down.

He bit his nails and thought of a way to alert the townsfolk. Nevermind his reputation as a crazy old hermit; this demanded some ACTION. But the only person who could help him was a scrawny kid of twelve and his sister, with whom he barely maintained any contact. He couldn’t just go barging in the Mystery Shack shouting that a big evil one-eyed triangle was going to trigger the Armageddon, could he? No. He had to make people take him seriously. Something impossible when you were the village idiot.

He first went to Dipper, the only person who would listen to him.

But the boy was too busy doing what boys his age did: trying to socialize and have fun at a party.

Then he went to the police. Suffice to say they were wary of his hillbilly antics and shoved him out of the police station.

He then tried appealing to the last person who might listen to him: Tate. His son never took him seriously. But what if he showed him his data? He knew Tate was as good as him when it came to math and physics. One look at the equations and he would understand.

But whenever he tried to talk to his son, Tate would just ignore him and threaten to place a restraining order against him.

‘Gosh darn it! Nobody will listen to me! By the time it happens, it will already be too late!’ he exclaimed, desperate.

Things were looking grim for Gravity Falls. He could try leaving the city...but what of his family? Now that he had finally begun to recover his lost sanity, he remembered Emma and Tate, the precious few moments they shared during their life in Palo Alto, his close relationship with his wife and son and the thirty years spent in self-imposed exile, slowly spiralling into madness, away from the two people he loved above all in the world.

He didn’t sleep too well that night, dreading what tomorrow would bring.

* * *

 

Due to some miracle, Fiddleford saw himself once again in the familiar garage where he used to work in Palo Alto. His banjo rested on his favorite chair and his personal project - the prototype of a portable computer - was on his desk. He searched for the mirror and stared at his reflection. He could barely believe it. He was back to his twenty-five year old self; young, sane and no memories of ever having visited Gravity Falls.

‘Holy moly! Is this real?’

He heard a familiar voice call him from the kitchen, announcing that lunch was ready.

‘Emma? Sweety, is that you?’ he asked hopefully,

‘Yes, love! Leave that project for a second and come eat with us! We’re waiting for you!’ he heard her reply.

His heart did somersaults at the prospect of having one more day to spend with his family. He hurried back inside and saw young Tate already sitting at the table, playing with his favorite toy - an eccentric scientist that built a machine capable of traveling back to the past - while his lovely wife placed some baked potatoes next to the plate with grilled fish.

She removed her gloves and felt a pair of hands hug her from behind. Fiddleford smooched her, looking at the lunch she had prepared for them.

‘You’re wonderful, you know that?’ he said in her ear, gently biting her lobe.

‘Fiddle! Not in front of Tate!’

Emma giggled, flushed. Fiddleford loved to compliment her, even for the simplest of things.

The family had lunch as usual, talking about all sorts of things; the news, gossip about friends and colleagues, Tate’s astounding high scores in practically all school subjects; Emma’s day at school, where she worked as a teacher of English literature and finally Fiddleford’s project of developing portable computers.

But Fiddleford did more listening than talking. He watched his wife as she spoke, missing those years.

He was so lost in thought he didn’t notice her calling his name.

‘Honey, I feel you’re a bit absent-minded today. Is everything alright?’

‘Fine. I’m fine. I’m just happy to be here with you.’

She laughed softly.

‘You spend too much time in that garage, all by yourself.’ she gently admonished him, caressing the side of his face.

* * *

 

He rested on the sofa, taking a quick nap. He woke up to the sound of the TV. Emma was watching soap opera again. He didn’t dislike it, but the excessive drama and predictable plot annoyed him.

‘Honey, could you please turn it down a little bit? I’m trying to sleep.’

‘Oh. Sure. Sorry, love.’

The volume was now tolerable and he tried to go back to sleep. He could still unconsciously hear the dialog. The characters were involved in a family feud where the wife threatened to leave her husband upon finding out he was involved in a dangerous secret governmental project which could bring about the end of the world.

He briefly opened his eyes, unable to relax listening to them argue. The plot just felt too familiar to his taste.

‘Honey, please turn it off. I can’t sleep like this.’ he begged his wife.

‘Why? Don’t you like what you hear?’ she replied in an eerie tone.

Her question disconcerted him and he looked at her. Emma slowly turned her head toward him, speaking.

‘You should, though. **They’re telling your life story. Or didn’t you recognise it**?’

Her eyes turned into slits, her sclera was a sickly yellow and she wore a sinister grin. He yelled and jumped out of the sofa. Emma opened her mouth and began to laugh hysterically. He broke into a cold sweat, realising who that was. There was only one entity in all of existence capable of entering people’s minds and give them nightmares.

The house dissolved in a colorful swirl, his wife’s appearance changed and in her place there was a one-eyed golden triangle hovering above the junkyard. Fiddleford was back to his sixty, almost seventy year-old self in Gravity Falls. He thought he had erased that cursed demon from his mind forever. Now the damn thing was hovering in front of his very eyes. The terror of that night in Ford’s lab returned with full force and he cowered, not wanting to face the entity responsible for his downfall into madness.

His cowardice only fuelled Bill’s amusement. The demon laughed to his heart’s content.

‘You humans are so dumb! You thought shooting a blue ray on your head would make you get rid of me? Well, think again! I still remember the day you and Sixer opened that portal for the first time. Since you paid me a visit, I thought I should return the courtesy!’

Fiddleford was shivering and trying to block from his memory the terrible event where he had witnessed that monster shed his exoskeleton to feed himself. To a being from the Multiverse, it must have seemed like something you witness everyday. But to a human, it was a disturbing image, one born from the deepest recesses of the mind, where the light of conscience never shone, and the darkest and most terrible nightmares lay in wait, ready to leap forward and terrorise you just for the sake of it.

‘W-wha….what do you want?’ he managed to ask Bill, still refusing to look at him.

‘Straight to the point, huh? I like that. What **_I_ ** want is to enter your dimension. That’s all. Now _we_ have to discuss what is it **_you_ ** want!’

Fiddleford’s fear began to ebb away and become replaced with dread. He didn’t know Bill was prone to making deals with people. But he did know that evil thing had sought him for a selfish reason. And whatever it was, he would have to be very careful not to give in to his demands, but not to anger him either. Bill was way over his league.

‘I don’t want anything. Just... **to be left alone**.’ Fiddleford murmured, praying this would soon be over.

‘Alone? Come now, I can see inside your mind, **Specs**! I know all of your secrets!’

Fiddleford started to panic. Bill could read minds? Then he knew what his weakness was.

As if on cue, Bill produced an image of Fiddleford with Emma and Tate, together and happy, him as his seventy year-old self, clean shaven, wearing normal clothes and looking like a respectable elderly scientist.

The physicist couldn’t take his eyes off it. Bill just laughed internally. Humans were so predictable.

‘I can turn that wish into a reality just like that.’ he snapped his fingers ‘All you have to do is help me get into your dimension.’

Fiddleford hesitated as he witnessed the image dissolve before his very eyes. He stared at the spot where it had vanished with longing.

‘How do you need my help?’ he slowly asked.

Bill’s eye gleamed with delight.

‘Oh, it’s simple. All you have to do is let me inside your mind for a moment. Once I’m done, I’ll be out of your body and you can go back to your _abnormal_ everyday affairs.’ he concluded

Fiddleford saw the triangle hover down to his position until they were eye to eye and extend an open hand surrounded by blue flames, ready to shake it.

‘So whad’ya say? **Do we have a deal?** ’

Fiddleford seemed unsure. Bill conjured up the image of him with his family again, living happily ever after. And then it struck him. Hadn’t Dipper told him about how that crazy triangle had possessed him and almost killed him with his antics? Hadn’t he turned brother and sister against each other? Hadn’t he made Dipper almost hurt Mabel? If he closed a deal with him, there was no telling what this monster could make him do to his wife and only son.

The thought of Emma or Tate getting hurt, and by his own hands, while there was nothing he could to stop it was enough to strengthen his determination and resolve. Against his better judgement, he crossed his arms, staring hard at Bill as his lips moved to form a resounding ‘No!’.

The triangle stared back at him, eye going black and golden skin now suffused with red, so irate he was. His voice changed and had become grave and menacing.

‘You think you can toy with the master of the mind? Fine! Mark my words, Fiddleford Hadron McGucket. This town shall be your grave. Yours and that of your accursed family!’

The junkyard was now on fire and he saw people running amok, fleeing from indescribable horrors. Under the red skies, the streets of Gravity Falls were piled up with corpses. People were turned into stone statues or eaten alive, limbs gruesomely torn from their bodies by gigantic beasts. And above all the calamity, the image of his happy family had turned into three smiling skeletons with weeping eye sockets, from where a fountain of blood poured, soaking him head to foot.

Fiddleford awoke with a scream, sweating and breathing intensely from the nightmare. He checked the wall clock. Ten to midnight. He then checked his computer. There were only ten hours left for the Armageddon. He started to panic. He knew it was late at night, but right now his priority was to see his family was safe. If he wanted to save Emma and Tate from a horrible fate, he had to warn them. No matter how many times they refused him, he had to warn them. He had to try. For his family. For Emma and Tate McGucket.


	2. 2

The skies were thunderous and rain began to pour the moment he set foot out of his shelter. The storm was already upon him. Even beneath the pouring rain, he bolted through the streets, slipping and falling, hurting his knees and elbows on the hard concrete. People passed him by yelling insults and curses, shouting the hillbilly had finally lost it. One teenager or two tried to trip him, but he just got up and continued running, never minding to turn back and teach those punks a lesson. This was too important.

Fiddleford raced through the traffic, getting run over by a car or two, but never stopping. Grasping his hurt arm, he continued, wind now blowing strong, threatening to take away his hat. He held it firmly against the top of his head, his resolution never wavering. He climbed the hill which lead to Tate’s home, where Emma lived with her son. He was tired and wheezing, years of malnourishment finally catching up to him. His skinny body shivered against the cold rain and the wind. His beard flailed like a flag, blinding him once or twice. He shoved it out of the way and resumed his determined climb. Once he had arrived, he walked toward the front lawn and knocked on the mahogany door, yelling his son’s name.

‘Tate! It’s me, Fiddleford! Open up, son! We need to talk!’

He got no reply and just kept knocking, yelling his name. He didn’t care if Tate would get furious. He would make that boy listen to him, even if he had to break down that door and force him to-

‘Who is this? Get away from that door or I’ll call the police!’ the voice of an old woman replied.

Fiddleford couldn’t believe it. This was Emma. It was his wife who replied. She was home. And she had come to answer the door. Which meant Tate was probably working late.

‘Emma?’ he said, uncertain, voice wavering with emotion. He hadn’t taken a proper look at her in the past thirty years.

‘What? Fiddleford? I told you not to disturb Tate! What do you want?’ she asked through the door.

He pushed her concerns aside.

‘This is no time to argue! Something terrible is about to happen! The town is in danger! I came to warn you and Tate!’

Emma sighed, barely believing her former husband.

‘This again? Don’t you tire of coming up with conspiracy theories? I thought you had given up after Tate warned you to stay away from our home!’

‘This isn’t about conspiracies, woman! Open that door!’ he insisted. 

He could hear his wife walking away from the door. But he wasn’t going to give up that easily. 

‘For crying out loud, Emma! I’m not crazy anymore! Remember the work I did with that visiting scientist? His project is out of control! The whole town is in danger! You have to leave Gravity Falls tonight!’  

His wife seemed to ignore his urgent warnings. He kept knocking on the door, begging for her to listen. But no matter what he said, she wouldn’t open it.

He finally stopped knocking and dropped to his knees, wondering how to convince her. He rested his forehead against the door, rummaging his brain for something, anything that would convince her he was now as sane as the old Fiddleford she knew.

Wait. The old Fiddleford...perhaps there was still a chance.

He spoke through the door, keeping his voice calm.

‘When Tate was born, I made you a promise, d’you remember? That no matter how successful I’d become, I wouldn’t let my work get in the way of family. This is why I had opted to work at home, building my prototype of a portable computer. I hoped one day I could establish a company that built them en masse and I would be a wealthy shareholder, living off the profits, with you and Tate in a large house.’

His wife didn’t reply. He continued.

‘And then I received that invitation from... S-Stanford Pines - he forced himself to recall that name - to work on his project. You protested against having to leave Palo Alto when I already had a whole future planned ahead for us. You even admonished me, telling me I was already breaking my promise. We had a good life in Palo Alto and I was leaving it behind for reasons connected to work. You told me that, if I kept making selfish decisions like that, it would affect our family life.’

He thought back to the very day when he heard those words.

**_‘I should have listened to you.’_ ** he admitted.

There was a long silence and he could hear footsteps. His wife approached the door once more. It worked! She was finally listening to him!

‘What else do you remember?’ she asked cautiously.

‘Everything!’ he shouted excitedly ‘Tate’s first birthday, his first words, when you scolded me for, eh, for...for giving him a Belgian waffle to eat when he was only two years old...’ he babbled on, counting his memories on his fingers.

She reluctantly opened the door, taking a peek outside. She saw herself staring at a seventy-year old hillbilly wearing green spectacles, soaked head to foot, his long white beard flailing madly, one noodly arm extended upwards as he struggled to hold his hat in place.

Emma was startled at the sight. Was this the man she had once called her husband?

Fiddleford stared at that old lady with a tight bun above her head, round spectacles over curious green eyes and a heart-shaped face he could never forget, no matter how many times he had erased his memories. He would recognise her anywhere, no matter how many wrinkles and expression lines covered it now…

‘Emma...’ he said weakly, eyes watering upon seeing his beloved wife once more.

But she raised a hand at him.

‘Tate isn’t home yet. He’ll be back late. He’s helping the police in an investigation. You said the town was in danger. Now, if you’re coming inside, I don’t want to hear any of this nonsense, ya hear me? Tate doesn’t like that sort of thing, and neither do I.’

Fiddleford couldn’t believe it. His wife was letting him in out of pity. She didn’t really believe there was a Doomsday device buried underneath Ford’s shack!

‘Aw, c’mon, woman! Ya think I’d waste my time coming here just for a sentimental reunion? This is serious! We’re in danger! And I  **_have_ ** to get you and Tate outta town NOW!’

Emma lost her patience and motioned to shut the door on his face again. Fiddleford was quicker and shoved his foot on the doorstep, yelling in pain when it banged against his fragile foot, but refusing to admit defeat. He would make her listen, one way or  another.

He forced the door open and handed a tape to her.

‘Here! Those are my memories, woman. I recorded them so you and Tate can understand what I went through while working for that imprudent scientist.’ 

‘What am I supposed to do with this?’

‘Watch it. Or don’t, I don’t really care. But even if you hate me for it, I’m not making the same mistake again! I’m taking you and Tate to safety. Now, we have - he checked his wristwatch - less than eight hours to leave town. And that tape’s got one hour of footage. That’s as long as I’m willing to wait until you decide to come with me, willingly or not.’ he said.

She was astonished to see him putting down his foot like that. This was so uncharacteristic of the hillbilly she had heard of for all those years and so much more like...her former husband.

He watched her visage soften for a moment as she stared at him, deep in thought. She looked at the tape in her hands, doubt beginning to creep in. 

‘Did I hear it right, Fiddleford? You’re saying this tape contains your memories?’  

He felt a great relief wash over him. 

‘Yeah. I can’t explain now, but please, just...believe me for a second, wouldja? Everything is explained here.’ he placed his hand over the tape ‘The project I worked on, the reason I quit, the reason behind why I... lost my mind...everything! Emma, listen. I know I am responsible for tearing our family apart. My... behaviour these past few years had repercussions for you and Tate. I know this. I’m not trying to apologise for thirty years of mistakes. Please believe me when I tell you I’m doing this because I’m worried about you! You may not believe in my reason to come here, but you have to believe in my intentions! You are and always shall be my wife. And Tate will always be my little boy, no matter if he doesn’t wanna call me dad anymore. When we still lived together, in Palo Alto, I remember all you did for me.  **When I was going through hard times, you were my shelter. Always have been.** You stood by me, regardless of what I was going through. And now, **it’s my turn to protect you** .’ 

She heard his heartfelt speech in silence. At each sentence he proffered, he sounded more and more like the man she knew and had come to love in the past. His words had finally touched her to the core and she made her decision.

‘Alright,  **Fiddle** . I’ll watch your tape. And then, I’ll pack my bags.’

He couldn’t believe it. He had done it! He was finally going to be able to save his family from Bill’s destruction!

‘Dad? Oh,  _ for God’s sake _ , what are you doing here?’ 

He turned to look at an angry Tate already coming up the front lawn, ready to grab him by his suspenders and throw him away from the house when…

‘Stop right there, young man! Your father and I are talking!’

Tate and Fiddleford both stared at her, astonished. It had been over thirty years ever since she had said those words. Back then, Emma would often lose her temper with her son. Tate was an energetic kid and only Fiddleford could discipline him. 

After his father left Palo Alto never to return again, however, he had grown taciturn and dedicated himself to his studies, hoping to provide for his mother in the absence of his dad, whom he had come to believe had abandoned them.

Emma turned to look at her husband once more, standing in the rain.

‘Why don’t you come inside? It’s cold out here. Come.  **We’ll shelter you from the storm** .’

‘ _ Ma... _ ’

‘Hush, Tate. Come inside, too. You’ll understand.’ she said, urging them both inside. 

Without another word, Fiddleford entered the house. He wore a smile on his face, comforted by the knowledge that, for the first time in over thirty years, his family had given the first step to taking him back. Now that he was on the path to recover his lost sanity, he would make sure not to waste it. And God willing, he would be the one to shelter his family from the storm that was sure to come.


End file.
